


The Road Less Traveled

by garbage_dono



Series: The Thousand Roads and Seven Seas [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Caspar is a flirty drunk change my mind, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Game(s), Post-Time Skip, Traveling, What if we got married in an abandoned chapel on a hilltop? just kidding...unless?, and there was only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-11-07 16:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20820026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbage_dono/pseuds/garbage_dono
Summary: After being jumped by bandits on the road, Caspar and Linhardt take shelter from a storm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another ship that snuck up and destroyed me. I finally got these two dorks' ending on my BL run and I've been thinking about them traveling together ever since.
> 
> This was only supposed to be maybe 3k words max and yet here we are. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The sound of Caspar’s laughter cracked through the trees as he threw his head back, grinning wide. “Did you _see _the look on his face?” he cackled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so pissed off at me. I think I’m lucky to be alive.”

“_We’re _lucky to be alive, you mean,” Linhardt mused. “I was there too, remember? And I can hardly blame the man for throwing the threats he did at us. You did punch him in the nose after all.”

“Ah, correction – I _headbutted _him in the nose. There’s a difference, Lin.”

“My mistake.” Linhardt stifled a yawn. “At least after riding for as long as we have been, we’re likely out of the reach of that innkeeper’s wrath by now. Though I suppose we’ll have to cross yet another tavern off the list of places we can ever show our faces again.”

“Their beer was awful anyway.”

Linhardt raised a brow at him. “That didn’t stop you from drinking your fair share of it. And most of mine too.”

“You don’t even _like _beer.” He let out a heavy sigh, stretching his shoulders and letting his horse plod along underneath him. The steeds they’d bought a few towns back were strong, reliable things, but they weren’t the fastest Caspar had ever ridden. Not that they were in a hurry to get anywhere in particular. “And I didn’t have a choice anyway. You saw how he was treating that girl. Saying all those awful things to her. At least now maybe he’ll think twice before berating the people who serve that sorry excuse for beer.”

“Mhm.”

Well, that barely counted as an answer at all.

Caspar glanced back at him, finding him with that leather-bound notebook of his resting open on the back of his horse’s neck. His brows were pinched as he scratched his pencil across the paper, attention absorbed in whatever it was that he was working on. “Are you seriously writing on horseback?” Caspar groaned. “Who even does that?”

“I do,” Linhardt fired back, as if it was obvious.

“I keep finding you with your nose in that book. What are you writing anyway? Poetry? Songs? A letter?”

“Your eulogy.” He snapped the book shut again and tucked it into his satchel. “Just in case you really do get yourself or both of us killed in the next town.”

“Ha _ha._” He faced front, staring down the long winding forest path that seemed to stretch on forever. Oh, he enjoyed a nice ride through the woods as much as the next guy, but as they reached the outer fringes of what was once Alliance territory, the towns got smaller and farther between. And between them – long expanses of _boredom. _

The coastal regions had been amazing, the mountains beautiful, and the orange-tinted forests were striking in their own way. But they seemed to go on forever, and the longer they spent traversing the more heavily wooded regions of Fódlan’s eastern territories, the more they all started to look the same.

“Ya know,” he mused. “I’ve always wanted to visit Brigid.”

Behind him, Linhardt’s voice sparked with interest. “Brigid?”

“Well yeah. You remember those summers we spent down at the beach as kids? Splashing around in the water, lying out in the sun.”

“I remember you getting stung by a jellyfish and crying while you begged me to _pee _on it.”

His face blazed red. “_Hey, _that’s supposed to help alright? And it _hurt!_” He hung his head, avoiding Linhardt’s eye and trying with everything he had not to relive _that _memory. “Besides all that, those times we spent on the beach were so much fun. And the northeast coast of Fódlan was more beautiful than I ever thought it could be. Though I’m not used to seeing snow on the beach…”

“Well, we did pass along the coast at the end of winter. And it was northernmost part of the Leicester Alliance – it’s almost as cold as northern Faerghus.”

“But don’t you want to go somewhere warm and sunny? You know, nap on the sand…go swimming in water that’s actually _warm _for once?” He smiled. “Besides, with Petra leading her people there, we’d probably be welcomed like royalty!”

“Well, technically that would make us ex-classmates of royalty,” Linhardt pointed out. “Which is probably just enough to win us a free meal. And I certainly wouldn’t turn down a nap on a warm beach, but I suspect you brought that up just to tempt me.”

“So what if I did?” Caspar said with a smirk.

“Brigid is a long way from here,” Linhardt sighed, and Caspar didn’t even need to pull out their map to know that he was right. It was hundreds of miles away, across the water, practically on the opposite side of Fódlan. But they had nowhere they had to be and all the time in the world to get there.

Caspar circled his horse around to come up alongside Linhardt’s, beaming at him and holding out a hand. “I’m in if you are. Across all of Fódlan – let’s do it.”

Despite already looking exhausted – though not more than usual – Linhardt took his hand. “I don’t have much of a choice, you know,” he said with a sly half-smile. “I don’t much like the idea of traveling alone. And if you go gallivanting off who-knows-where you might just get yourself killed before you make it anywhere close.”

“Hoorah!” Caspar cried, fist flying into the air. “Brigid here we come!”

Over a nearby hill, a flock of birds flapped noisily into the air, and Linhardt groaned. “Must you yell like that? It’s not as if we’ll be in Brigid tomorrow. It’ll take weeks to make that journey, and that’s not even counting any stops along the-“

Barely a breath later an arrow cut through the trees and lodged in the side of a nearby tree, and Linhardt’s horse reared, sending him careening backwards into the mud with a surprised yelp. Caspar hardly had time to call out his name before shadows broke through the underbrush, rushing toward them, steel flashing in the sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead. 

Caspar was on his feet, leaping off his horse before he gave it even half a thought, but the second he turned toward Linhardt he felt the point of a sword digging against his back. “Not another move,” came a voice, deep and rough. “Put your hands up nice and slow, and maybe you’ll walk out of this forest alive.”

He locked eyes with Linhardt, holding his gaze as he slowly raised his hands. His axe was still tucked in his saddle bag, just within reach, but there were at least two other bandits in his periphery, and another dragging Linhardt to his feet. Not to mention the one pressing a damn sword against his spine.

“Unlucky travelers,” the man said, and it sounded like he was smiling. “Not a good idea to go shouting your lungs out in dangerous woods like these. Might attract some unsavory characters.”

The other bandits chuckled. It sounded like more than just four of them, but it couldn’t be more than six or so. Six, he could handle. Barely, but still.

“You’re more unlucky than we are,” Caspar said. “Spent the last of our gold at a tavern a few miles back. Unless you want a few dusty old books or a pair of old boots, you’re not gonna get much out of us.”

Linhardt muttered something about those _dusty old books, _but a moment later the figure behind him pressed a dagger to his throat.

“Aw, c’mon – you gotta have something on you worth taking. That’s a nice axe there. Silver?”

Caspar’s body went rigid. “Take it,” he hissed. “But get your damn knife away from my friend’s neck.”

“Think we struck a nerve,” the voice behind him chuckled. Another of them rummaged through his saddle bag, dropping clothes, gloves, and food all over the ground after they grabbed the axe.

The knife against Linhardt’s neck never wavered. “Rude…” Linhardt breathed, and he grimaced as it pressed against his skin, drawing a fine line of blood to the surface.

The man at the other end of the sword digging into Caspar’s back huffed. “Axe is better than nothing…how thoughtless, leaving so little for us. No matter – we can get a pretty penny for these horses too.”

“I said put that knife down,” Caspar insisted.

“Or-“ The sword at his back dragged up the line of his spine, sitting between his shoulder blades. “How about I do you both a favor. These woods are even more dangerous at night. Wolves, bears, other shadowy beasts. Without your horses or weapons, you’re liable to be ripped limb from limb. Horrible way to die, don’t you think?” The tip of the sword made its way up to the nape of Caspar’s neck, and he shivered. “Much better to die by a blade now, than at the jaws of some beast later.”

Heart pounding, Caspar held Linhardt’s gaze and managed a smile. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Sure, I’m the best guy with an axe that I know-“ Despite being inches from death, Linhardt rolled his eyes. “-but I’m good with my fists too.”

“I’d like to see you take us all on with your fists against our blades. I wonder how you’d fare.”

“Oh, that’s not all though. My friend over there?” He nodded at Linhardt, and got the smallest of nods in return. “He’s got a couple tricks up his sleeve too.”

Not a second later, a burst of white magic lit up the forest, and Caspar’s legs moved without a second thought. He threw himself at the bandit behind Linhardt, taking advantage of the precious moments where the man stumbled to bring his knee up to ram into his solar plexus. He went down with a groan, and Caspar turned on his heel just in time to duck under the swing of a sword. His arm cut through the air – his knuckles crashed against the second bandit’s ribs with a satisfying crack.

“You _little bastard!_”

Caspar spun around, vision blurring, but clear enough to catch the glint of sunlight off his own axe, raised to strike. The a blast of fire exploded behind his attacker’s back, sending him tumbling past.

“Making me _fight-_“ Linhardt grunted. “Unconscionable.”

Caspar’s fingers wrapped around the familiar hilt of his axe, but just as he turned to attack again, their horses reared and whinnied. The bandits on their backs cracked the reins, and their hooves pounded against the dirt, heading straight for-

“_Linhardt!_”

The axe slipped from his hand, his legs burning as he rushed forward, grabbed Linhardt’s robe, _pushed-_

The horses bolted past, and Caspar’s world spun and crashed around him as he pitched forward and hit nothing but air. He careened over the edge of the path, finally hitting the side of a steep incline, rolling down a hill and slamming hard against his shoulder before finally coming to a stop. The voices of the bandits cursing and yelling faded into the distance as they took off on the backs of their horses, no doubt with his axe and their food in hand too.

Caspar fought to sit up, head swimming. His legs worked. Arms too. But his right shoulder throbbed with pain that radiated down his side. He grit his teeth, heart pounding as he searched for Linhardt.

He didn’t need to search long – Linhardt was already making his way down the hill, sliding precariously over the mossy incline. He rushed over, panting and red, hair covered in leaves and mud. “You _imbecile,_” he groaned. “You could have gotten yourself killed. Or broken your neck. And then I would have had to _carry _you all the way to the next town.”

“Sorry for not wanting you to get trampled,” Caspar coughed.

Linhardt let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. “Are you alright?”

“Nothing broken. At least I don’t think so.” He tried to sit up, but grimaced. “_Ah…_my shoulder. Yup, that’s hurt. Not good.”

Linhardt was already closing his eyes, lips pursed as he rested a hand over Caspar’s shoulder. “Doesn’t seem broken,” he mumbled, and through the pain Caspar wondered just how he _did that. _“Dislocated though, which is far from ideal, but at least it’s better than a break.”

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain was getting even worse. Caspar groaned. “You sure about that?”

“Yes. If I had to fix your broken arm with magic I’d be laid up for _days_ after_._ Do you have any idea how much magic it takes to mend bones?”

“Well can you fix _this?_”

“I suppose.” He paused. “But you aren’t going to like it.”

“Lin, don’t make me beg.”

Another sigh. “I guess you did save my life. And you having two functional arms is much better for our odds of survival.” He dug through his satchel – one of the only things they’d managed to save from those bandits it seemed – and pulled out strap of leather. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to-“

“Bite on it,” he said. “I told you, you aren’t going to like this. And if you start screaming and attract more bandits or wolves or some other bloodthirsty beasts we’re probably done for.”

Caspar looked down at it, frowning, and then pressed it firmly between his teeth, choosing not to think about where it had been.

“Good,” Linhardt said, moving closer. He pressed his hands against Caspar’s shoulder. “Now, just lie back and think of those beaches you like so much.”

“Fink off wha-“

Linhardt gave one good _push, _and white hot pain pulled every curse Caspar knew out of him, muffled by the leather. Sluggishly, he let the leather strap drop from his teeth. “F…fuck…”

“What did I tell you?”

Caspar let out a shaky breath. “Thanks…” His voice cracked, and he let himself lean back against the rocks behind him. “Ah…it’s getting dark soon.”

“And we have no horses,” Linhardt added, shaking his head. “Though, I did manage to save this-“ He dropped one of the saddle bags beside him – it held little more than their bedrolls and a bag of dried meat, but it was something. “They did make off with my _old dusty books, _it seems.”

“Aw…Lin, I’m sorry…”

“Joke’s on them. They’re worthless in the hands of people so ignorant of their true value.” He leaned against the rocks beside Caspar, and as he canted his head toward the sky, Caspar noticed the thin line of blood already dry on his neck.

He reached out and let his hand rest against Linhardt’s elbow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive. Thanks, I will admit, to you. Though I’m still blaming you for the loss of our horses.”

“Fair enough.”

“We won’t make it to the next town on foot before dark. Probably won’t even make it out of the forest.” He let his eyes close, in exasperation more than exhaustion. “If we don’t find somewhere to take shelter, there’s a good chance we really will be ripped apart by something large and terrifying before sunrise.”

“Oh come on, you don’t believe all that talk of _dark, shadowy beasts _wandering the woods.” Caspar gulped. “…Do you?”

“Dark, shadowy beasts? No. _Wolves__, _on the other hand…”

“Alright, alright – you made your point. You’re right. We should find somewhere to sleep.“ He pushed himself to his feet, grimacing when his shoulder still ached. As scraped and bruised as he was sure to be, all things considered, he couldn’t help but feel lucky looking up the hill that he had just come tumbling down minutes before. Very lucky indeed.

Linhardt followed close behind. “They took your axe too.”

“Yeah…I figured.” He glanced at the bag slung over Linhardt’s shoulder. “How did you get the saddle bag anyway?”

“I didn’t wrestle it out of one of those brute’s arms, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said dryly. “It fell off when the horse reared, and I don’t think they cared enough to grab it. That, or they just didn’t notice.” He busied himself pulling the leaves out of his hair. “I think you broke quite a few ribs on one of them.”

Caspar laughed, even if it made his shoulder ache. “Yeah, well a few others were still _smoldering _when they took off. You’re kinda terrifying when you try to be, ya know.”

“I wasn’t _trying _to be anything. It was just some basic fire magic. Doesn’t mean it didn’t take far more out of me than I ever wanted to give.” He stretched his head back a delivered a fantastic yawn. “If it weren’t for the threat of being ripped apart by wild animals, I could go for a quick nap right here.”

“We’re not getting ripped apart by anything,” Caspar insisted, if only to himself more than anyone else. “Um…thanks, by the way…for fixing my shoulder.”

“_Fix_ is a bit of a strong word. It’ll take more than just popping the joint into place to heal all of the damage.” He huffed. “It’s a lot of _effort _traveling with you, you know.”

“Nah,” Caspar breathed, doing his best to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

They walked, and walked, and _walked, _until Caspar’s feet were aching almost as much as his shoulder and the shadows were getting so long and dark that they rivaled the trees themselves. And even despite heading west by the setting sun, he couldn’t help but feel like they were going in circles. Every tree looked the same, every clearing seemed irritatingly familiar, and every time a squirrel jumped through the underbrush Caspar found himself reaching for an axe he didn’t even have anymore, expecting the bandits had come back for more.

And to make things even _worse, _there were clouds rolling in on the horizon. Dark, angry-looking storm clouds that made Caspar’s stomach wrap itself into knots. He felt like there was a hole opening up in his chest as he stared at them and asked, “Does that look like a storm to you?”

“Rain…” Linhardt sighed. “Just what we need.”

Caspar let out a weak little laugh. “A…a little rain never hurt anybody, right?”

“The last time a storm came through, you refused to sleep in your own bed and wound up kicking me all night in mine. Sometimes I wonder if you ever aged a day past when I met you.”

“Hey, I got taller didn’t I?” Caspar fired back. “Let’s just…keep going. Maybe it’ll miss us?”

An ominous roll of thunder rumbled in the distance, and Caspar fought not to whimper.

With their backs to the storm, they trekked onward. Caspar forced himself not to look back at the clouds, despite knowing that they were moving closer and closer by the sound of thunder growing nearer with every minute.

The thick forest foliage gave way to a rocky outcropping overlooking a steep cliff face. A river ran far below, and on the other side Caspar could barely make out the soft orange glow of a town nestled on the other side of the trees. “Looks like we were headed in the right direction at least,” he breathed, but with daylight gone save for a tiny sliver on the western horizon, they were never going to make it tonight.

And just as _that _depressing thought flitted through his head, a raindrop fell square on his nose.

“You feel that?” he asked, and the moment he turned to Linhardt for an answer, the heavens opened.

In seconds they were soaked to the bone, and Linhardt muttered curses Caspar couldn’t remember ever hearing from him before as they made run for it, toward the rocks. Over the pouring rain, Linhardt gasped, “There!” and grabbed Caspar by the collar, and the next thing he knew they were standing, dripping, inside a small cavern etched into the cliff face.

It wasn’t deep – just enough for them to escape from the rain, but not enough for anything to be hiding in. Lucky for them, after all that talk of _bears _roaming the woods. “Nice going,” Caspar said with a smile. “Guess this is home sweet home for the night, huh?”

Linhardt just groaned, already busy wringing out his hair. “And yet I’m already soaked.”

Caspar slowly leaned against the back cave wall, drawing in a slow and careful breath. That _sound _was deafening. Pouring against the stone over their heads with no sign of stopping. And outside it was coming down in such thick sheets that the lights of the distant town were completely blocked out. It was just black – dark and impenetrable and so, so _loud- _

“Caspar.”

“Huh?”

Linhardt had a hand on his arm. “It’s just rain,” he said. “Compared to having a sword against your neck earlier today, it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

Oddly enough, that did let the knot in his chest loosen a little. Who ever would have guessed that remembering almost getting decapitated would calm him down? “Y-yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, you’re right. Besides, it’s not like anyone is gonna be out prowling around in this. Not even bears.”

“I don’t think bears care much about the weather,” Linhardt mused, and Caspar staunchly refused to focus on _that _thought as Linhardt dropped their meager remaining supplies at his feet and pulled out what little dry kindling they still had. “There’s a few dead tree branches over there shielded from the rain. Bring them over, would you?”

It was easy to spot – a long, gangly branch that had twisted and fallen halfway inside the cave mouth, still dry. Lucky. It took some doing with just one good arm, but he freed a decent few chunks of it and piled them at Linhardt’s feet.

It was fascinating watching Linhardt build a fire – almost every time they set up camp, he was the one to do it. Oh, Caspar could manage with some kindling and flint if Linhardt was already asleep from the second they put out the bedrolls, but it was much quicker for Linhardt to conjure a few flames to his hand.

Before long they had a crackling fire, just barely shielded from the wind and rain outside, and Linhardt dropped to the hard ground and let out a groan. “Almost getting killed is exhausting. Reminds me of being back in the war.” He rolled out the bedroll, which was thankfully still dry. “Looks like the bandits took the other one. Not that I’m surprised.”

“You use it,” Caspar said. “I’ll keep watch.”

Not that he would be able to sleep with this rain anyway.

Linhardt blinked at him. “For bears.”

“Quit joking about bears!”

“Wolves then.”

Caspar threw a twig at him, grimacing when his shoulder smarted.

“Serves you right,” Linhardt said as he plucked the twig out of his wet hair. “Is it still hurting?”

“Yeah…nothing I can’t handle. I probably had it coming. Attracting those bandits at all.”

Linhardt blinked. “Attracting the bandits?”

“I was probably being too loud,” he groaned. “As usual. And it got us in trouble, as usual. And you – you almost _died. _And now we’re stuck out here, in the rain, without our horses or food, and-“ Caspar glanced over at him. Linhardt’s shoulders were shaking. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m _cold,_” he said. “Because my clothes are soaked. But that’s beside the point – you didn’t attract those bandits, Caspar. They were tracking us from the tavern. Granted, there’s no telling whether it was your assault on the innkeeper that drew their attention in the first place, but-“

“Wait, wait, wait. They were tracking us from – how do you even _know _that?”

“Because I remember the one that almost ran you through with his sword from the town. He was complaining about the beer and being an all-around insufferable brute.” He fiddled with the clasp of his robe for a moment before unclipping it. “He and his merry band of thieves and brigands probably followed us intending to leave us for dead once we got far enough from town.”

“I _told _you that beer was awful.” Linhardt slipped his robe off of his shoulders, draping it over a nearby rock. “Uh…what are you doing?”

“My clothes are soaked. And so are yours, so if you’re smart you’ll do the same.” As ridiculous as it was, Caspar felt his face heat up, and not because of the fire. “Please, I'm not stripping down entirely. And besides, it's not like we haven’t seen each other naked before.”

“When have you ever seen me naked?” he squawked.

“We used to go swimming in that lake all the time,” Linhardt drawled. “And I remember you were very fond of climbing the trees and hanging from the branches in nothing at all.”

His cheeks were blazing hot now. “Yeah, well we were _kids-_“

“And there was that one time when everyone broke open the monastery wine stores after a particularly difficult battle, and you-“

“Y-yeah, we don’t have to relive that memory.”

“-somehow got more drunk than I’ve ever seen you and-“

“I remember, okay? I was there!” In truth, the memory was a little foggy.

Linhardt seemed to be suppressing a laugh. Damn him. “-you showed up at my door in nothing but one of the robes that you stole from the cathedral. And you never did manage to tie it correctly.”

His face would have been cooler if he’d stuck it in the burning embers next to him. He hid it in his hands. “_Lin…_”

“Suffice to say it won’t bother me if you want to get out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia.”

Linhardt was already down to his undershirt, which was mercifully dry since his robe seemed to have taken the worst of the rain. And as much as Caspar didn’t want to admit it, he knew Linhardt was right – he was soaked under his armor from the water seeping in through the plates and under his collar. But the thought of leaving himself so exposed was…

“There aren’t going to be any bears coming after us in this,” Linhardt sighed. “In fact, I don’t think there are any bears in these woods at all. Based on all the ecological surveys I’ve seen, they mainly live in western Fódlan.”

“And how many _ecological surveys _have you seen?”

“A fair number.” Well it would have been nice to know they wouldn’t cross paths without any bears before he had spent all that time keeping a lookout for them. “There are supposedly bobcats roaming this area, but-“

“Nah-ah,” Caspar insisted. “I don’t wanna know what else is roaming around out there. Just…just…” He sighed, heat creeping over his cheeks again. “Fine…can you help me with the clasp though? I can’t reach it with my shoulder messed up like this…”

Linhardt mumbled something about _effort, _but helped him with the clasps anyway, and before long Caspar was down to his underclothes and his armor was drying by the fire beside Linhardt’s robes. Despite having less on than before he felt warmer already.

The rain was still coming down in heavy sheets, and it didn’t show any sign of stopping, but Linhardt sat close enough that the noise didn’t bother him quite as much. As they sat in silence, watching it come down, Caspar managed a laugh. “Ya know…this kinda reminds me of that summer when we were kids. That freak storm came through one night, and it rained for _hours. _Flooded the roads, knocked down trees. It felt like the end of the world.”

“I remember sleeping in your bed,” Linhardt said. “And _you _sleeping _under _it.” His eyes wandered to the charm hanging around Caspar’s neck. “I made you that thing so you wouldn’t be so insufferable every time a summer storm came through.”

“Like you minded having the whole bed to yourself.”

“It was hard to sleep with you crying the whole night.”

“I didn’t cry the _whole _night!”

“You did.” Linhardt smiled. “I was there.”

“Okay,” Caspar groaned. “So what if I did? I was a kid! I did lots of stupid stuff like climbing trees naked and crying during storms. And now look at me, huh? Beating up bandits and traveling the world…”

“If you’re looking for me to stroke your ego, you can go ahead and drop it.”

“I’m not asking you to stroke anything! C’mon, I’m trying to have a moment here.” Linhardt watched him, silently. Looking expectant. Caspar hung his head. “It was kinda eerie, how calm you always were when we were younger. Like nothing could shake you. It creeped me out at first, but…after a while, it was kind of comforting.”

Linhardt made…a noise. Somewhere between a laugh and a hum. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me _comforting _before.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong – your bedside manner is _awful._”

“I always thought it was a waste of time. If someone is dying, platitudes and niceties won’t stop them from doing so.”

“Still…” Caspar stared down at his hands, folded in his lap. “Since I started traveling with you, I don’t mind the rain so much.”

“You certainly cry less,” Linhardt offered, and Caspar had to laugh.

“Yeah. Anyway…I guess what I’m trying to say is…thanks for putting up with me all this time, Linhardt.”

That was the first thing that seemed to surprise him – his eyes widened, his lips parting silently for a moment before he said, “Putting up with you?”

“Aw, come on, Lin. You don’t need to sugar coat it. Traveling the world like this was what I wanted to do. I just never figured I’d get the chance, or I figured I would be doing it alone, which never seemed quite as appealing. I know you’d probably rather be back home in a big library dedicating your time to revolutionizing the field of crest research and napping in a nice warm bed instead of trudging through mud and rain and getting threatened by bandits.”

Linhardt pinched the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowing. “Honestly, Caspar. I knew you could be dense, but this is a new level of oblivious, even for you.”

“Wha?”

“You really think I would be out here risking my life and regularly getting you out of trouble if I didn’t want to be? What do you think I had waiting for me back home? I would have taken over as Minister of the Interior, gotten married off to some noblewoman and conceived Goddess knows how many children in the hopes of passing on my crest, spent my days attending meetings and filing paperwork until I grew old and died…It would have been so unbearably _exhausting. _Not to mention _boring._”

Linhardt, marrying a noblewoman and having children…somehow, Caspar just couldn’t picture it. It almost seemed impossible to picture. Whenever Caspar tried imagining him settling down in the Hevring estate with someone else, his thoughts kept wandering back to-

Him.

Them.

His heart thumped so loudly that it almost drowned out the rain.

“Do you really not understand it?” Linhardt asked. “Why I chose traveling with you over all that?”

“Be-“ Caspar cleared his throat, but it seemed so dry all of a sudden that it did no good. “Because you…hate paperwork?”

Linhardt muttered something that sounded like “hopeless” before he leaned in and kissed him.

_Kissed him. _

Holy Sothis, Linhardt was _kissing him. _

The rain might as well have stopped right there. Caspar may as well have stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped existing at all. Everything froze, suddenly silent and still, and all he could think of was what the _hell he was supposed to do with his hands. _

But before he could manage to decide what to do with his hands or lips or any other part of him, Linhardt pulled away and stared at him with that same expectant look on his face. “Do you understand now?”

“I…” He gulped. “I-I…” Linhardt’s hands were still resting on either side of his face. He’d expected them to be cold and clammy from the rain, but they were warm. So warm. And softer than anything Caspar had ever felt before. He wondered if all the magic made them that soft.

“I tried to make it easy for you,” Linhardt said, looking almost disappointed. “You’re not the most self-aware person at the best of times. When you asked me if I wanted to come traveling with you after the war ended, I’d assumed that you’d finally figured it out, but obviously it took longer than I’d expected.”

“Figured what out?” Caspar blurted.

“That you’re in love with me.” Caspar couldn’t do much more than stare at him, mouth hanging open like a hooked teutates pike. “And you have been for quite a while. Exactly how long, I’m not sure. But I’d say at least since we were twelve.”

“How…how did you…”

How did he _know? _

When Caspar didn’t even _know himself?_

“It’s rather obvious for a skilled researcher.” The Linhardt smiled, and it was a smile that Caspar didn’t think he’d ever seen on him before. Warm and open and shining in his eyes. “If I can’t tell when my best friend is in love, how can I trust myself to do any research at all?”

Caspar did what he did best and moved before he overthought it. He kissed Linhardt back.

For a moment Linhardt sounded surprised, letting off a soft yelp against his mouth before tugging him closer. Caspar finally settled on resting his hands on the small of Linhardt’s back, and suddenly their chests were flush together and Linhardt’s hands were stroking through his wet hair, and – _oh. _

Tongue. That was definitely tongue.

This was…new and different.

Tentatively, he opened his mouth a bit, because that was what people were _supposed _to do in times like this. Linhardt’s tongue darted inside, just enough for him to notice. And, well – he should reciprocate, right? So he pressed his tongue forward and-

Linhardt pulled away, blinking at him. “You certainly are…eager.”

Caspar’s blush deepened even more. If that was even possible. “Ah…too much?”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be an expert right from the beginning.”

He pouted. “Hey! I’ve kissed plenty of people before!”

“Really?” Linhardt challenged. “Who?”

“Uh…well…ah…alright, you got me.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead on Linhardt’s shoulder, if only to hide the pink on his cheeks.

Linhardt’s hand wandered up along his ribs, making Caspar shiver until his palm rested on his injured shoulder. “Does it still hurt?”

“Huh?”

“Your shoulder.” When Caspar glanced up at him again, his eyes were lightly closed. Linhardt’s fingertips left a pleasant tingling where they touched.

“Oh…nah, I can handle it. You don’t need to exert yourself for me.”

Linhardt just huffed, and the tingle grew until it felt like gentle sparks across his skin. Slowly, but surely, the pain dulled and faded, and as it did, Caspar turned and got a good view of the pale column of Linhardt’s neck. The wound there had long since stopped bleeding and was half-covered by his long hair. Carefully, Caspar pushed a bit of that hair back, leaning in and pressing his lips against the exposed skin instead.

Linhardt shuddered. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“You want me to stop?”

“I never said that…”

He seemed to be concentrating just fine. Before too long his shoulder felt good as new, but even if it didn’t, he was perfectly content to keep kissing Linhardt’s neck like this.

“You’re…” Linhardt let out a contented little sigh. “You’re much better at this…than tongue kissing.”

Caspar laughed against his skin. “Hey, give me some credit. I wasn’t interested in doing this before.” He paused, just resting there a moment with his nose brushing Linhardt’s shoulder. “Never really felt like I wanted anybody. I always kind of figured…I don’t know…maybe I just wasn’t interested at all. I never had anyone pestering me to get married or have kids since I didn’t have a crest or any inheritance really. So I never thought about it.”

But if Linhardt was right, and Caspar growing more sure by the second that he was, maybe he just wasn’t interested in anybody _else._

He hazarded a glance back up at Linhardt again, suddenly curious. “You seem to really like it…Me kissing you there.”

Linhardt hummed in acknowledgment, then suddenly he was ducking down tucking his nose under Caspar’s chin and getting his lips against Caspar’s _neck, _and-

“Oh…” He let out a breath. “_Ohhh_…”

Now he _definitely _wasn’t thinking about the rain. Or about anything, really. It was easy to comb his fingers through Linhardt’s damp hair, or to grasp a handful of his undershirt to ground himself while Linhardt did absolutely _spectacular _things with his mouth. Yes, this was nice. Better than nice. He could do this forever. He could live off of this. 

By the time he pulled away again, Caspar was breathing like he’d just finished a fight. For a moment Linhardt was quiet, before he shifted and let out a shuddering breath. “You certainly seem _interested _now.”

“What?”

He glanced down. _Oh. _

His face blazed hot to the tips of his ears as he turned and jammed his hands between his thighs, like hiding it would do anything to stop his embarrassment. “_Agh_ – shit, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Caspar tried to will that damn erection away, but so far it was doing nothing to help. “Hey, it felt…good. Really good. Good enough for me to almost forget that we’re stranded in a cave in the middle of a dangerous forest.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Seeming supremely unbothered, Linhardt stretched and yawned. “Listen, I know this might be a lot to take in. I don’t want to rush you into anything, even if I have been waiting for you to come around for the last ten years or so.” Caspar bit his lip, feeling Linhardt’s fingers drag across his biceps as he made his way over to the bedroll.

The only bedroll.

“I’m going to bed,” he said. “You can stay up and keep watch if you prefer. Or you could join me over here.”

“You…you want me to…”

“Either way it’s a win-win for me, really. I either get a good night’s sleep or I get to kiss you a bit more.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

Caspar stared at him, mind utterly blank. After so long, he was used to Linhardt’s usual bluntness, but he didn’t think he could ever get used to the _tug _he felt in the pit of his stomach as he looked at Linhardt – stretched out on the bedroll with a flush high on his pale cheeks, his hair mussed up beyond recognition, and what looked like a bulge in his own pants…

He could either stay here staring out into the inky dark night, waiting for the rain to let up, or…

Wolves, bandits, and shadowy beasts be damned, he turned and practically launched himself onto the bedroll with Linhardt, clumsily settling between his legs. Linhardt let out a surprised breath, squirming under him.

“Sorry,” Caspar grimaced.

Linhardt laughed, breezily. “It’s fine. I guess I should have expected more enthusiasm from you of all people.”

It was surprisingly easy to lean down and kiss him again. And surprisingly _familiar _too. Lack of experience aside, it felt natural, like he’d been doing it for ages. It was almost addicting in a way, feeling Linhardt positively melt under him, hands wandering up his back, nose bumping against his as he deepened the kiss.

Caspar went easier with the tongue this time, which seemed to do the trick, because Linhardt pulled away just long enough to breathe, “_Better,_” in his ear before tugging him back in for more.

Linhardt was a quiet person on the best of days, and at first it seemed that was just as true of him now. But the longer Caspar listened, the more he noticed his quiet sighs, his muted gasps, and his breathless little moans-

That was a nice sound. A _very _nice sound. Even nicer when Caspar shifted a bit and felt something unmistakable pressing against his thigh, and Linhardt _whined. _

“As nice as this is-“ Linhardt’s lips were swollen, a blush spreading down his chest. “I’d like to touch you.”

Caspar swallowed, head reeling. But he’d come this far, and he was nothing if not determined. He was Caspar von Bergliez, dammit, and he threw himself into whatever he did – fighting, training, eating, or…_this. _

So he summoned his courage, threw caution to the wind, and leaned in to growl in Linhardt’s ear, “You can touch me wherever you want.”

There was something satisfying about the way that dark pink flush spread even more across Linhardt’s cheeks when he looked down at him again. “You’re… really full of surprises, you know that?”

Before Caspar could say anything in response, Linhardt’s hand was wandering down across his ribs, over his stomach, hovering over the hem of his pants. He glanced back up for a moment, and Caspar nodded. And then his hand was-

“_Ah – _that’s-“

Linhardt cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” he blurted. “No…no…keep going…”

Linhardt did, slowly stroking him, brushing his thumb over the head and sending a shiver up Caspar’s spine that made him moan before he could stop it.

“You should at least _try_ to be quiet,” Linhardt said on the edge of a small laugh. “Would be a pity if you drew the wrong character’s attention and we were interrupted.”

“Sh…shut up…” Linhardt really _did _laugh at that. “Quiet…I can do quiet…just as long as you don’t…stop…”

Linhardt’s lips grazed his jaw, and he hummed, “Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

“Well I can’t do _all _the work, can I?” He gently wrapped the nimble fingers of his free hand around Caspar’s wrist, guiding it down between his legs. “Don’t strain your shoulder,” he said when Caspar’s fingers met his waistband. “I put a lot of effort into healing it up for you, and if you ruin it I’ll toss you out into the rain.”

“You wouldn’t,” Caspar said with a smirk, fingers slipping down under the fabric.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“’Course not.” And there was his goal – Caspar got a hand on Linhardt’s erection and gave it a cursory stroke.

Finding a rhythm was easy, even if Linhardt was distracting him more with every passing second. Linhardt’s mouth was tucked against the underside of Caspar’s jaw, kissing and nipping at his throat, and between _that _and the hand between his legs, Caspar could barely remember his own name, let alone make sure his own hand kept moving.

He let out a whine, and Linhardt’s lips covered his, muffling it. “Lin…” he gasped, shuddering and rocking against him. “Lin, I-“

Linhardt’s free hand tangled in his hair, thumb brushing along his temple. And all Caspar could do was bite his lip, to stop himself from crying out as he buried his nose in the crook of Linhardt’s neck and the feeling that had been building in his stomach wash over him completely.

He barely even noticed how much he was shaking until he noticed Linhardt’s hands rubbing soothing circles along his back as he came back to his senses. Breathless as he was, all he could do was rest his forehead against Linhardt’s shoulder and laugh. “Still wanna throw me out in a rain?”

“Seems like I’d have to _drag _you out after that,” Linhardt fired back. “And that’s just too much effort.”

There was a strained edge to his voice that wasn’t like him, and as Caspar’s mind slowly started functioning again, he realized it likely had something to do with the fact that his hand was still resting, motionless, between Linhardt’s legs. “Ah! Lin…you’re still…” He groaned. “Here I was so wrapped up in everything that I almost forgot.”

He tightened his grip again, and Linhardt mirrored it, grasping at his shirt where it was bunched up over Caspar’s ribs. His eyes slipped closed, mouth falling open, hair splayed out around his head like a dark halo. With his head tipped back like this, it was easy for Caspar to dive in closer, mimic what Linhardt had done earlier – kissing and grazing his teeth across the skin under his jaw.

Linhardt’s fingers brushed against his wrist, resting there almost like a note of encouragement, and Caspar pulled back from his neck just in time to watch Linhardt’s brows knit together and his breath hitch as he gripped him tight and came in his hand.

When his eyes fluttered open again, Caspar couldn’t help but grin. “I’m a natural already, huh?”

That earned him a weak little whack on the side of the head, followed by a lazy, unhurried kiss.

* * *

They woke up to an early morning chill brought on by the rain. It almost made it through the blanket they’d draped over themselves, but with Linhardt tucked firmly against his chest, Caspar was still comfortably warm – albeit sore and in desperate need of a shower. But that was par for the course these days.

“Lin…” His voice was rough and parched. “Linhardt…it’s morning.”

“I know,” Linhardt groaned. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move. “Unless we’re about to be robbed again, I’d rather not face getting up quite yet.”

“Next town’s just an hour or two away on foot,” Caspar said, poking him in the ribs and leaning close. “There's probably an inn there that serves a nice hot breakfast. That’s gotta be better than whatever we have left. Not to mention a hot bath, a warm bed…”

“You’re warm enough.”

Caspar couldn’t help but lean in to press a kiss to the back of Linhardt’s neck, pushing his hair out of the way and marveling at how _soft _it still was despite all the abuse it had suffered the last few days. “Linhaaaardt…” he crooned. “Come on…up and at ‘em.”

Linhardt didn’t even bother opening his eyes. “If you’re so intent on getting up now, you can carry me.”

“What happened to not straining my shoulder?”

Finally, Linhardt turned to look at him, and he let out a long, defeated groan. “_Fine,_” he sighed, sitting up with a magnificent yawn. “But you’re packing up camp. What little of it we have left…”

Their clothes weren’t exactly bone dry, which was less than pleasant, but Caspar focused on the thoughts of that piping hot food, warm bath, and soft bed that he had promised Linhardt to coax him out from under the blanket. As he dressed and packed up, he couldn’t help but think about sharing those things with Linhardt. A meal…a bath…

His face was getting hot again despite the early morning chill.

When he looked over at Linhardt again, he was writing in that notebook of his, scratching away at the pages with his brow furrowed in concentration. “Still writing my eulogy?” Caspar quipped.

“Not this time, no.”

“What is it, then? Letter to your folks?”

“Yes, Caspar. I’m writing my father to tell him that we had sex in a cave and we’re running away to Brigid to get married on a beach.”

Caspar let out an indignant squeak. “_What?_”

He snapped the notebook closed again. “It’s a book,” he finally said. “Or it will be. Hopefully.”

“You’re...writing a book?”

“About us. About this. I always wanted to write something that people would read and remember for years to come, and I always figured that one day I would publish my groundbreaking crest research. But crests are becoming less and less important in this world. Maybe that’s for the better. But seeing all of these places we’ve been…that’s something I’d certainly want to read about, wouldn’t you?”

Caspar blinked at him. “So you’re…writing about everything we’re doing?”

“I left out what happened last night, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Well did you at least put in how I beat the snot out of those bandits?”

“Yes,” Linhardt sighed, the slightest hint of a smile tugging on his lips. “And I added that to your eulogy for good measure too.”

“_Hey-_“

Linhardt was already tucking his notebook back into his satchel and pulling out something else instead – a small box, no bigger than his palm. “We’ll need to get another pair of horses when we reach the next town. And those bandits stole what little gold we still had on us, but luckily I do have something that might help.”

He handed the box over, and the second Caspar opened it, his breath caught in his throat.

“A…a ring?”

“My father gave it to me,” Linhardt said. “A long time ago, before I left, obviously. Back when he was still holding out hope that I would marry someone to carry on the family name. That’s a moot point now, of course, but it should fetch us enough money for a pair of horses to the right buyer.”

“Wait, you want to _sell it?_”

“Well it wouldn’t do us much good on its own. And to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure it would fit your finger very well anyway.”

“_Mine?_”

“It’s not like I had plans to give it to anybody else.” Linhardt snatched the box back again and tucked it back into the bag. Like he hadn’t just flipped Caspar’s world on its head. “Besides, if I do give you a ring one day, I’d rather it not be an old Hevring family heirloom. Horses would be much more useful for the moment, especially if we’re planning to make it all the way to Brigid.”

Caspar stood, frozen, staring at him. “You…you think you’d wanna give me a ring one day?”

“I was going to give you this one,” Linhardt said with a smile. “Eventually. When you figured it all out.” He sighed, pulling his satchel onto his shoulder. “If it really means that much to you, I suppose you can keep it. But we’ll need to scrape up some way to get ourselves at least one horse before we head on.”

“No – no, you’re right. This is more important than one little ring.” He swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Besides, I don’t even have a ring to give you in return! I’ve got to get one myself before we can go exchanging proposals anyway.”

He swore there was a hint of pink spreading across Linhardt’s cheeks. “Fair enough. But first thing’s first…You mentioned a hot breakfast.”

“Yeah!” Grinning, Caspar hooked his arm under Linhardt’s elbow. “Come on – we’ve still got a whole world to see if you want to fill up that book of yours.”

And Caspar was determined to see every last bit of it with him, one step at a time. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to write more of this, but I love these two dorks too much not to.
> 
> The world of Fire Emblem is a magical place where there are dragons and warlocks and they have indoor plumbing by the year 1185 because it's convenient to me.

They made it into town, thank Seiros. Caspar didn't think he'd ever been as exhausted as he was the moment they stepped over the threshold of the inn. His shoulder was aching, his head was pounding, and his clothes were still just damp enough under his armor that he was chafing something _horrible. _And sure, he was used to sleeping outside, but that didn't mean that sleeping a few hours on hard stone was particularly pleasant.

Sleeping next to Linhardt had made it a little more pleasant. He almost made sharing one bedroll comfortable. Not quite, but _almost. _Close enough.

But he still _desperately _needed a bath. And some real breakfast. And to get into some dry clothes. Not necessarily in that order.

Linhardt managed to scrounge up a few gold coins from his satchel. It was only enough to get them one bed, but that was all they needed. They'd shared a bed plenty of times before, and all things considered neither of them cared much.

Especially not after last night.

Caspar hoped the innkeeper didn't notice his blush.

"Oh," Linhardt added as the innkeeper was scooping the coins into his palm. "And we're famished too."

"Got anymore gold for food?" the man asked, raising one bushy eyebrow.

"Well…no. But my partner here could certainly scrub some dishes for you if it would get us some breakfast."

"_Dishes?_" Caspar groaned, but his stomach's growling was louder than his complaint. He sighed. "Yeah…I can do that."

The innkeeper huffed, looking them up and down. "You two got caught in that storm last night, didn't you?" he said.

"After getting our horses stolen by bandits," Linhardt answered breezily. "We managed to find shelter in a cave. Frankly it's a wonder we weren't eaten by wolves."

The man threw his head back and let out a loud belly laugh. "Eaten by wolves – that's a good one. Haven't seen any wolves running around those woods in years. Bandits, though…that I can believe." He dropped their coins into his lockbox. "I'll see to getting you boys a hot breakfast, just as long as you promise to bathe. You both smell like wet dog."

Linhardt let out a long sight, suddenly looking so exhausted that he could probably curl up on the floor right there and sleep the rest of the day away. Though that was nothing new. "Believe me, I'm looking forward to a bath almost more than food." 

Caspar, though, could have eaten a horse. Maybe even two. He settled for a heaping plate of eggs and smoky sausage and chased it down with a tall glass of watery wine that tasted almost like vinegar. He hardly cared. He would have drunk stagnant river water, his throat was so parched. As he slammed his cup down on the table again and groaned contentedly, he caught Linhardt staring at him. "Quit judging me," he huffed. "I haven't eaten anything but scraps of dried meat since yesterday morning. I got a metabolism to keep up."

"You eating enough for three people is par for the course," Linhardt relented, and was that a tiny smile on his face? "It would just be a shame if you choked to death after all the effort we put into staying alive yesterday."

"M'not gonna choke," he insisted around a mouthful of bread.

"I'm not saving you if you do."

Caspar swallowed and smirked. "All that talk of marrying me and you wouldn't even save me if I choked on my breakfast?" The moment the words left his mouth, his stomach flipped. Right…that marriage talk. Not to mention everything before it. It still felt like a strange dream that wasn't quite real.

His heart skipped in his chest as Linhardt rested his hand on top of Caspar's, not missing a beat. "All the more reason for you to eat slowly, so I'll still have someone to marry when we get to Brigid."

Caspar's face was so hot that the wine in his stomach could have boiled, but oddly enough, it was a good feeling. "Right," he breathed, smiling. "Don't die before getting to Brigid. Got it."

After they finished eating, they trudged upstairs. They barely got the door of their modest little room closed before Linhardt starting peeling off his damp robes, groaning. "If it was a choice between wearing wet clothes and nothing, I would rather traipse around town naked."

Caspar couldn't honestly say he would _mind _that much, but he kept that to himself. "You can take the bath first if you want," he said instead.

"You smell worse than I do."

"I don't smell _that _bad," he fired back, but as he removed his chest plate, a smell that could only be coming from him hit his nose, and he frowned. "Uh…okay…yeah, you're right."

"I told you," Linhardt laughed as he hung his robes by the window. Maybe if they were lucky that ring would net them enough money for some new clothes too. It couldn't hurt. "Go ahead. I could use a nap after all that food anyway."

Like he'd eaten enough to be tired out – he'd scraped the last of his bacon onto Caspar's plate somewhere between Caspar's second and third helping of eggs. But Caspar didn't complain; he tugged off his shirt and headed for the bathroom.

He paused, an idea flitting through his head. "Hey…Linhardt."

"Yes?" Linhardt called, pulling off his boots and dumping out a couple of rocks that had made their way in there.

Caspar's fingers tapped on the doorframe, his face feeling like the surface of the sun. "Um…this tub is…pretty big…" Linhardt glanced up to look at him with his other boot halfway off. "Any chance you might…ya know…wanna…join me?"

That wasn't crazy, right? It was a normal thing that people did when they were…whatever they were. And the thought was interesting. _Very _interesting.

Linhardt looked surprised for just a moment before he smiled, dropping his boots next to the bed and crossing the room to wrap his slender fingers around Caspar's wrist. "Tempting," he said. "But probably better to focus on getting clean instead of risking getting…sidetracked."

Caspar gulped.

"Next time though," Linhardt added, leaning in and pressing his lips against Caspar's. Goddess, Caspar swore he would never get used to that. Despite the mountain of food he'd downed at breakfast, he swayed on his feet like he hadn't eaten in days.

"Y-yeah," he rasped when Linhardt pulled away again, a flush high on his cheeks and his pulse pounding in his ears. "Okay."

Linhardt's nose wrinkled. "You really do smell like a wet dog."

"_Hey-_"

He shoved Caspar gently toward the bathroom, chuckling as he did. "The faster you get clean the faster I'll stop telling you that."

"Okay, okay. You just wait – I'll come out smelling like a field of roses, and then it'll be my turn to tell you how bad you stink."

"You do that."

* * *

The bath was like heaven.

They had gotten chased out of the last inn they stayed at before they'd had the chance to bathe at all, and before that they'd spent days cleaning off in frigid streams wherever they could find them. Caspar had almost forgotten what _hot water _felt like at all. He could melt right into the water then and there, and he sank down into it with a contented sigh and got to work washing the dust out of his hair.

Probably for the best that he was bathing first – every time Linhardt bathed, he seemed to leave more hair in the tub than on his own head. The thought made him laugh, bubbles breaking the surface of the water.

He'd never had a name to go with the hot, fluttering feeling that swelled in his chest whenever Linhardt's hand brushed his, or when Caspar caught him smiling over the edge of a book. He had never given it much thought. After all, whatever it was, Linhardt was stuck with him for the foreseeable future, and that wasn't likely to change. But now that he knew just what that feeling was – that it was a kind of _love _he'd never felt for anyone else before – it seemed even bigger than before. Just thinking about Linhardt and his habit of leaving his damn hair in the tub made him feel like his chest was going to burst.

And then he inevitably thought about Linhardt peeling off his robes…the way he'd kissed him the night before…the feeling of his hand slipping into his pants-

Caspar broke the surface of the water again with a gasp and shook out his hair. Maybe it was a better thing that he was bathing alone after all. If Linhardt were sitting right there with him, naked and dripping, he might have done something _embarrassing. _And then they would never get clean.

Luckily for him, he'd had a clean – and _dry _– shirt and pants tucked away in Linhardt's saddle bag. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing, and at least he wouldn't have to change back into his smelly, damp old clothes after finally washing himself off. Maybe he didn't smell exactly like a field of roses like he'd promised, but at least he didn't smell like wet dog anymore.

Linhardt was stretched out on the bed, hands resting on his stomach and legs hanging off the side. It was an odd position to fall asleep in, but Caspar had seen him passed out in weirder places. But Linhardt's eyes weren't closed – he was staring up at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought.

"Bath's free," Caspar said. "I smell better now, right?"

"Mm," Linhardt hummed. "I suppose now I'm the smelly one…"

"Yeah, ya smell like waterlogged hay."

Linhardt sat up, pouting. "Waterlogged _hay?_"

"Well at least it's not as bad as wet dog."

"Says you." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. "The bed's comfortable at least. Not particularly big, but considering that we shared one bedroll last night, it feels like massive improvement."

"Hey, that was kinda cozy," Caspar laughed. "Would have been cozier if we weren't sleeping on a slab of rock, but…"

"_Cozy _is certainly one word for it. Just because I _can _sleep anywhere doesn't mean I _want _to." He brushed past Caspar, fingers once again grazing across his knuckles. "You do make a halfway decent pillow though, I'll admit."

"Halfway decent?" he said with a grin. "I make an _amazing _pillow, thank you very much."

Linhardt just hummed, leaning in and leaving him with a light kiss on the lips that made Caspars' entire body feel like it was vibrating. Even when the bathroom door closed and the sound of running water drifted from the other side, Caspar stayed there, standing in the middle of the room, befuddled for a good couple of minutes.

Yeah, he was _never _going to get used to Linhardt kissing him like that. Maybe that was a good thing, because this buzzing feeling in his chest was starting to feel pretty damn good.

He didn't bother hanging up his damp clothes – they would need to be washed the first chance they got anyway – and busied himself instead by cleaning and polishing his armor. It had needed it for longer than Caspar wanted to admit, and there were a few dents and scratches that were _never _coming out, but those he could live with. Mud caked up between the plates was another matter entirely. And at least it gave him something to do with his hands that kept his mind from racing back to Linhardt lounging naked and stretched out in the tub.

Goddess, where the hell were these thoughts _coming from _all of a sudden? It was like a dam had broken and now he couldn't keep his mind off of the feeling of Linhardt kissing him, the zap of his fingers against his skin, the sounds he made when he-

Caspar threw himself into scrubbing the mud off his vambraces.

It wasn't too terribly long before the bathroom door swung open again, and Linhardt stepped out in a cloud of steam with a happy little sigh. He had a towel over his head, lazily drying off his hair. "You're right," he said, "That tub is awfully big. I can't remember the last time I had a _hot bath._"

"Almost better than that breakfast, huh?" Caspar said with a smile.

"_Miles _better." He threw his head back, damp hair falling down over his neck and shoulders. He'd pulled on a clean pair of pants, but little else, and for the first time Caspar got a good look at the faint pink marks along Linhardt's neck.

The one's he'd put there.

He swallowed. "S-so, uh…we probably ought to find someone to buy that ring of yours, huh? I don't know about you, but I'm clean out of gold and we only have this bed for one night. Plus we still gotta eat."

"All that breakfast and you're still thinking about food," Linhardt chided with a smirk.

"_Later, _I meant. I'm trying to plan ahead here."

Linhardt sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "You do have a decent point." He rummaged through his satchel, pulling out that familiar little box and opening it to study the ring inside. Watching it glint in the light made Caspar's stomach do an odd little flip. "It should get us at least enough for a couple of horses and some extra gold for the road. I'm pretty glad I stole this from my father's estate…"

"_Stole _it?" Caspar squawked. "I thought you said he gave it to you!"

"Well, he was _going _to. He always said it would be mine one day when I found the right _noblewoman _to marry, but when I decided to leave I took it with me for good measure." He shrugged. "It's not as if I have any plans to go back anyway. My father doesn't have any power over me anymore."

Caspar lay back against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah…I guess you're right." He let out a hint of a laugh. "Can you imagine what he would do if he found out you were marrying someone from _House Bergliez?_"

"I'd rather not," Linhardt groaned. A moment later, he lay down next to Caspar on the bed, their shoulders snugly pressed together, and Caspar took the opportunity to find his hand and lace their fingers together. Linhardt stared down at their hands for a moment, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging on his lips. "I don't mind it…giving up my family name. I was never all that attached to it anyway. Honestly, I can barely remember a time before I'd given up on being the man my father wanted."

"So you don't miss it?" Caspar asked softly. "Not at all?"

"Do you?"

"Not…not as much as I thought I would. Sometimes I miss my brother, but we haven't been close in a long time anyway." He let his thumb stroke along Linhardt's knuckles, feeling the tiny line of a scar he'd gotten years ago re-stringing a bow. "I guess I'm not really used to feeling like I have something waiting for me."

Linhardt's eyes were shining in the late morning light. Caspar couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them so close. "And what is it you have waiting for you now, hm?"

"You – duh." Caspar turned on his side, facing him with their hands tucked between them. "Seeing all of Fódlan with you. Going to Brigid and…and marrying you. Settling down somewhere quiet where you can nap all you want under the trees without getting jumped by bandits."

Linhardt laughed. "You really know how to woo a person. Still, I can't exactly see you settling down anywhere. Not unless you have someone to punch."

"So maybe I could become a mercenary. Or a knight. Someone who looks out for people who can't do it for themselves." Linhardt was looking at him, staring with rapt attention, fascinated. Caspar felt his cheeks flush pink. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh nothing – I'm just trying to picture you as a knight."

"Hey, I'd make a great knight!"

"I never said you wouldn't."

"I could outclass Thunder Catherine herself!"

"That may be pushing it," Linhardt chuckled.

"I'll get my own impressive nickname! _Lightning Caspar!_ The storm raging across all of Fódlan!"

Linhardt's chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. "Caspar, do you know the meaning of _irony?_"

"Of course I do! And I'm not _that _afraid of storms anymore, ya know."

Linhardt was still laughing, and _goddess, _Caspar really wanted to kiss him again. He couldn’t find a reason not to and didn’t care to think one up, so he pressed Linhardt gently down against the pillows and did it.

Caspar took his time, shivering when Linhadrt's fingers dug into his short hair and sighing as their chests pressed together so tightly that he could feel Linhardt breathing underneath him. Sure, he wasn't the most patient guy on the best of days, but he didn't feel any need to hurry things up. He was content to let his hands wander aimlessly along Linhardt's ribs, without a real destination in mind, savoring the sound of Linhardt's soft little moans…

For a few minutes at least. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath. "We…we should really…take care of that ring, don't you think?"

Linhardt's eyes were half-lidded as he stared up at him, and if it weren't for that flush on his face and the glint in his irises, Caspar would have thought he was about to fall asleep right then and there. "We should," he sighed. "But it can wait. At least for a bit."

"I mean…I guess…"

"Are you really eager to get up and go already?" His hand teased the hem of Caspar's shirt, slipping under it and tickling against his stomach. "I'm rather comfortable."

Caspar choked back a moan as Linhardt's fingers traced along his ribs, wandering over his hip bones. Goddess, when had Linhardt gotten so _handsy? _"It's not that I want to _stop…_" He blinked down at Linhardt, staring at him from arm's length. "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Want to stop?"

"Kissing you? No. I told you, I'm comfortable. And enjoying myself quite a bit." He let out a contented little sigh. "I have to admit it's nice, actually having a bed for this. Really feels like I can take my time."

Face blazing hotter than ever, Caspar smirked. "Take your time, huh? Just what were you planning to do to me?"

"_Caspar,_ are you…_flirting?_" Linhardt brought a hand to his chest, looking downright scandalized. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Hey, I can flirt plenty!"

"Then please, tell me more." Linhardt's hands rested comfortably on the hem of Caspar's pants, not pressing any further, but teasing the fabric and the skin underneath. It made Caspar _intimately _aware of his position, kneeling over Linhardt and straddling his thighs.

For the life of him, he couldn't think of what he was supposed to say. Linhardt had always been fond of telling him not to overthink things, so maybe that was the right approach. It had always been what he was best at, so he summoned his courage, leaned in close, dropped a kiss to Linhardt's neck and whispered, "I like…hearing what kinds of sounds you make when I kiss you."

It was just the truth – nothing more and nothing less. Not exactly _flirting, _as far as Caspar could tell. But Linhardt shivered anyway, his hands wandering up Caspar's back and dragging his shirt up with them until it was bunched up over his chest. Caspar forged ahead, kissing along Linhardt's neck and jaw, following the path of little marks he'd left the night before.

"I like the way you touch me," he said. "Your hands, um…your hands feel…good."

Below him, Linhardt chuckled lightly. "I’ve heard better, but I'll take it."

"I'm doing my best here."

"It's fine," he insisted, letting his eyes slip closed and canting his head backwards to expose more of his neck. Seemed he _really _liked that. "Keep going…"

Caspar did, tucking his nose under Linhardt's chin, kissing along his throat, feeling the vibration against his lips when Linhardt moaned. "I wanna…I wanna make you feel good, Linhardt," he breathed, voice shaking more than he'd realized.

"You already-" Linhardt's breath hitched, his fingers curling against Caspar's skin. "You already are."

And yeah, that hard poke against Caspar's thigh when Linhardt shifted underneath him seemed to support that much. It did a little more than that too. It took every ounce of self-control that Caspar had not to grind down against him, and he bit his lip. "No, I mean…well, we…we're in a bed…"

Linhardt hummed encouragingly, hands trailing down Caspar's spine. Caspar couldn't tell if the touch was supposed to calm him down or rile him up, and somehow it impossibly did _both. _

Caspar swallowed. "Last night…in that cave…I mean, don't get me wrong – it was _good, _but-"

"Mm…probably even better without the threat of bandits or mountain lions coming to eat us." Linhardt nodded sagely. "Not to mention that we're warm and dry, and this bed may be lumpy, but it's better than lying on stone any day."

Caspar ducked down, if only to hide the red tint spreading quickly across his face and let his lips brush against Linhardt's ear: "I really want to touch you more, Linhardt."

His eyes flicked up to meet Caspar's again, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "My my, Caspar…it's a good thing we didn't bathe together earlier because we'd surely still be _in there, _and probably not much cleaner than when we got in."

Caspar offered him a crooked smile, heart racing. "So, is that a yes?"

"_Absolutely, _yes."

It took all of two seconds for Caspar to tug his own shirt the rest of the way off and drop it on the floor, and Linhardt was already ahead of him – by the time Caspar looked down at him again, he was wriggling out of his pants. And sure, they'd seen each other naked a handful of times as kids, and a few times involving too much wine that Caspar would have preferred to forget. But that was different – _far _different – than having Linhardt staring up at him from the bed, flushed and _hard. _

"This is what you meant, right?" Linhardt asked, quietly. Caspar's mouth was so dry that all he could manage was a quick nod. Because _yes, _it was absolutely what he wanted. If only he could get his head to stop spinning like a top.

Goddess…sometimes he forgot just how _gorgeous _Linhardt was. Pale skin, long dark hair, that slender frame, hands dotted with callouses from where he held a quill or the reins on his horse. Caspar could barely believe he'd never noticed it before. The last time he'd given it any thought at all had been when they'd returned to the monastery after that long five-year absence and he'd marveled at how well all that time had treated his oldest friend.

"Doesn't seem fair that I'm the only one who's naked, does it?" Linhardt added, fingers toying with the hem of Caspar's pants. The second he snapped back to reality, Caspar couldn't get them off fast enough, and he almost toppled off the bed shoving them down off his ankles and sending them flying across the room.

That desire to kiss him never wavered. He wanted it now more than ever. From the moment Linhardt had first leaned in and pressed their lips together, Caspar didn't think he'd ever _stop _wanting it. It was so different kissing him like this, with no clothes between them and a real (albeit lumpy) bed beneath them and Linhardt's hands wandering up and down his back.

"Ca – _aahhhh…_" Oh, that was a new noise. He didn't think he'd ever heard Linhardt _moan _like that before, even when he'd gotten his hand around him in the cave. If all it took was a good thigh pressed between his legs to get Linhard to make that noise again, Caspar would gladly keep his knee where it was all day long. "Caspar…" Linhardt finally forced out on a ragged breath, "I…got something from the kitchen."

Caspar blinked at him. "You hungry again? I told you to eat more at breakfast."

He swore he caught Linhardt rolling his eyes. "No, not anything like that." He nodded toward the table by the bed, until Caspar looked and found a small glass bottle sitting there. "It's olive oil. I grabbed it while the innkeeper had his back turned."

"You _stole _it?" Caspar shrieked.

"Don't worry, they had plenty more. That bottle's nearly empty anyway. And nobody saw me. I'm not planning on getting us kicked out after what happened in the last town."

"Why the hell would you wanna steal olive oil anyway? What do you – oh…" The pieces were coming together, one by one in his head, making his face blaze hot. "Oh, you…_oh…_"

“If you’d rather not-“

“No!” he blurted, too loudly and too quickly. “No, it’s not that. I just…well, I’ve never exactly…”

“I promise it’s not nearly as difficult as you might think,” Linhardt said, fingers meandering up and down the length of Caspar’s arms. “Of course, I can’t do all the work, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, _Lightning Caspar._”

Caspar was already reaching for the bottle and almost knocked it over right then and there, and that would have put and end to their plans completely. “_Linhardt._”

“What? You came up with that nickname, not me.”

He snorted as he sat back on his haunches between Linhardt’s legs, bottle in hand, erection jutting out in front of him. And oh, that was a…new and interesting angle. “So you ah…you’ve done this before, huh?”

“I’ve done my fair share of…well, why don’t we just call it _research._” His fingers tapped against Caspar’s wrist. “Start with your fingers. With _one _finger at first. And use more of that-“ He nodded at the bottle as Caspar popped the cork out and started to tip it into his hand. “-than you think you’ll need.”

The oil dripped over his fingers and onto his sheets. Figured they were already making a mess, but in the grand scheme of things he couldn’t find it in him to care much. He was more focused on the task at hand (for lack of a better phrase), nudging his slicked up finger between Linhardt’s cheeks.

He was warm, and _tight. _So tight that Caspar was sure this had to be uncomfortable for him, but Linhardt didn’t say a word about stopping. He had his lip caught lightly between his teeth, his eyes closed, head tipped back, legs lazily spread as Caspar got in past his second knuckle. “Holy _Seiros, _Lin,” he breathed. “You feel…kinda amazing.”

Linhardt opened one eye to look up at him. “You can move,” he said. “Won’t get anything done if you just get your finger in and leave it there.”

“Move. Right. I can move.”

It was reassuringly easy to slide his finger back out again, pressing forward with a bit more confidence until he was able to build up a gentle rhythm. He rested his other had on Linhardt’s knee like an anchor point (for himself as much as Linhardt) and leaned forward to kiss him.

It was an awkward angle, with his arm still trapped between their bodies, but when he pressed inside again as their mouths met, Linhardt threw his head back and _keened. _“Shit-“ Caspar gasped. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No – _Sothis, _no.” The pink flush on Linhardt’s cheeks was about five times darker all of a sudden, his hips rocking up to meet Caspar’s hand as he let out a shaky breath. “Do that again. Exactly the same way.”

Caspar did, relying on little more than a vague sense of muscle memory, and Linhardt let out a deep and rumbling groan. “Is that a good noise?” he offered hopefully.

“Good,” Linhardt sighed. “Very good. Keep going…please…”

He did, heart racing as he blazed ahead. More oil, another finger, a slight change in angle here and there – he listened with rapt attention to every little gasp and moan that escaped Linhardt’s lips, marveling at how the flush on his skin crept down over his chest and how his eyebrows pinched together in pleasure when Caspar brushed over that spot that made him squirm so much.

If it was really that good, it was no wonder Linhardt had done a bit of his own _research _in the area. Maybe Caspar had been missing out all this time only paying attention to the obvious parts.

And _speaking _of that-

“I think I’m ready,” Linhardt breathed, giving Caspar’s arm a squeeze.

Caspar blinked. “Ready?”

“Did you forget what we were doing this whole time?” Linhardt’s gaze flicked down between Caspar’s legs where his erection had flagged a bit but was still obviously more than interested. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re doing a wonderful job with just your hands. I wouldn’t be opposed to just doing more of this if you want, but I’d really rather…”

Linhardt’s hand wandered from Caspar’s arm to his hip to between his thighs, fingers wrapping around him and getting him even more _interested _in almost no time at all. Just one thought about how _tight _he’d been around his fingers made Caspar feel like someone had started a wildfire in his belly. “Y-yeah,” he forced out, nodding so quickly it made his head spin. “Yeah, I can…I want to…”

He stared down between his own legs where his erection was resting in his hand, glistening with the oil he’d slathered on. When he glanced up again, Linhardt was staring at him, hair still damp and hanging in front of his eyes, and Caspar couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” Linhardt huffed.

“Nothing – just…” He fought back a snort. “Just…can’t believe we’re doing this. You and me. If our fathers only knew-“

Linhardt groaned like he was in pain. “_Please _don’t bring up our fathers at a time like this.”

“What?” Caspar giggled, leaning in to press a clumsy kiss to Linhardt’s cheek. “Am I killing the mood bringing up _Wolfgang von Hevring-_“

“Caspar I _swear to Seiros-_“

“Alright, alright.” He gave Linhardt’s thigh a placating squeeze with his free hand as he leaned back again. “No more talking, I promise.”

“You can talk.” He grimaced. “Just not about our fathers.”

“Right – just uh…tell me if I should stop, I guess?”

“I promise I’m not going to want you to stop,” Linhardt said. His voice was soft, gentler than Caspar had ever heard it. Sure, Linhardt was a quiet guy most days – especially compared to him – but Caspar didn’t think he’d ever heard him use a tone so _warm. _Comforting, even.

Maybe he should take back what he said about Linhardt having terrible bedside manner.

Anchored by Linhardt’s hand on his thigh, Caspar rocked forward, pressing, _pushing- _

“That’s it…” Linhardt sighed, head tipping backwards and fingers curling against Caspar’s legs. “That’s good…”

And goddess, good was an _understatement. _

It took everything in him to keep his pace slow, because the second Caspar pushed inside everything in him was screaming for _more. _It was tight and hot and slick, completely unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he must have made some kind of _embarrassingly _loud noise because his throat felt ragged by the time he finally bottomed out.

Hopefully not loud enough to lose them their room.

Voice shaking, he glanced down and met Linhardt’s eye, shooting him a crooked grin. “Good?”

“Very.”

Seemed one-word sentences were all either of them could manage.

“M’gonna…” He pulled his hips back. “M’gonna try…”

As he rocked forward again, Linhardt’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding tight as his fingers curled against the nape of Caspar’s neck. With their chests flush together, Linhardt’s thighs pressing encouragingly against his hips, and the hot puff of Linhardt’s breath against his lips as he gasped, Caspar’s self-consciousness melted away in a heartbeat.

That didn’t stop him from feeling just a tiny bit ridiculous when he tried to ask how it felt and all that came out was a garbled mess of a moan.

“…harder.”

Caspar’s hips stuttered. He puffed away a lock of Linhardt’s hair that had gotten stuck against his lips and said, “Wha?”

“You can go harder.” Linhardt’s voice was barely a breathy whisper, wavering and catching as he spoke. When Caspar stole a glance of his face, he found Linhardt flushed, lips parted, eyes just barely open and fixed on his face. He shifted a bit, knuckles brushing against Caspar’s lower belly, and Caspar almost forgot how to breathe as Linhardt wrapped his hand around his own erection and started to stroke with a quiet moan. “I want you to…”

Staring down at him, watching Linhardt’s arm move as he stroked himself, Caspar got an idea. He reached back, hooking his hand around the back of Linhardt’s knee, pulling it toward Linhardt’s chest as he leaned forward, rocking his hips again in earnest.

Seeing stars.

He braced his free hand on the headboard, biting his lip to mute his own moans as Linhardt let out a long, broken whine, and warmth splattered against his stomach.

“Did…” Caspar blinked down at him. “Did you…”

“_Keep going,_” Linhardt insisted.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

It took less than another minute before Caspar bowed his head and groaned, frame shaking as he came.

He all but collapsed on top of Linhardt when he came down, sucking in deep, greedy breaths. Linhardt’s fingers toyed with his short hair, nose brushing against Caspar’s temple. Caspar managed a laugh against Linhardt’s chest. “_Way _better in a bed, huh?”

“Mm…”

Caspar glanced up at him. “You falling asleep on me already?”

Linhardt huffed. “Says the person using me as a pillow…”

Caspar dutifully rolled to the side, nudging his nose snugly in the space between Linhardt’s neck and shoulder. “Lin…that was…” He met Linhardt’s gaze, catching him staring down through a mess of dark hair with an easy smile on his face. “We’re gonna need to clean up again…”

“Mm…later…”

“And we’re gonna have to go take care of getting new horses too.”

“Later,” Linhardt repeated, arms wrapping around Caspar’s middle. “It’s still early…we have plenty of time…”

Now that the afterglow was starting to set in, Caspar couldn’t imagine getting up out of this bed for anything, no matter how lumpy the mattress was. He let his eyes slide closed, only opening one of them to quirk an eyebrow and say, “M’gonna wanna do more of that.”

Linhardt’s frame shook as he laughed. “_Later,_” he insisted once more, yawning.

Sure, there was plenty to do, but they had time. Time to sleep a bit of their day away, and all the time between the door of the inn and Brigid, and even further beyond.

* * *

They traded the ring for a pair of horses and an axe – a rusted and dull axe in desperate need of some love, but Caspar had gotten skilled enough at polishing and sharpening that he could rescue it himself with enough time. And in the meantime, he had his fists. Those never failed.

An axe would help though.

“Apparently,” Linhardt said as he threw his saddle over the horse’s back, “there’s a farmer not far outside of town who needs a few pelts for tanning.” He shot Caspar a glance. “He’d probably be willing to part with a bit of gold if we did the hard part for him. Well, if _you _did the hard part for him anyway.”

“Look at you, picking up leads for odd jobs,” Caspar said with a grin.

“I’m a good listener.” He hung his satchel from the saddle before hopping up on the horse. “Especially when it comes to finding ways to stay fed and dry.”

Caspar glanced down at his horse’s mane, running his fingers through the chestnut brown hairs as he pictured that ring. It had felt like a dream, staring at it and seeing years into the future – a future with Linhardt, where they didn’t have to worry about finding a place to sleep or keeping watching for bandits or wild animals.

A future he’d always wanted, except now when he imagined it there were matching rings on his and Linhardt’s fingers.

Linhardt frowned. “Caspar.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not still broken up over trading that ring for these horses, are you?”

“N-no!”

“Well that’s good,” Linhardt sighed. “Because I’m relatively certain we got the short end of the bargain. A pair of old horses who’ve spent their lives so far hauling carts between towns might be sturdy enough to get us Brigid, but no doubt that merchant will make a small fortune off of us.”

As they made their way down the path toward the farm, Caspar kept his eyes locked ahead of him. “Ya know…_if _I was a little…disappointed that you had to sell the thing, it’s not cause we could have gotten better horses from it.” He finally spared a glance over at him. “I know you said you’d want to give me something that didn’t come from your family, and it’s not like I’m itching to get a ring on my finger.”

“Ring or no ring, we’re stuck together regardless,” Linhardt said with a smile that lit up the inside of Caspar’s chest like a sunrise.

“I just…ever since you brought it up, I want it more than anything. To marry you. To put a ring on your finger and say, ‘This is my husband, Linhardt! The best healer in all of Fódlan!’”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

“Hey, to _me _you are!”

“Caspar, the only thing that’s changed in the last few days is that you’re no longer a virgin.” He smirked when Caspar’s face turned hot. “We were practically married before we’d ever kissed, and we’re no different now.”

The craziest thing, in Caspar’s mind, was how _right _Linhardt was. Up until that night in the cave, he’d already planned on traveling all of Fódlan and beyond with Linhardt by his side, settling down with him somewhere quiet, living out their days in each others’ company…In a way, they had been married long before he’d ever known about that ring.

“Still…” he said as he studied the rolling hills of the countryside outside the little town, “I know it won’t change anything, but I want to do _something…_”

“I do like the idea of getting married in Brigid.”

“Yeah.” His eyes caught something up at the top of a hill, and he smirked. “But before that…”

He tugged on the reins, veering off the path and up toward the building perched on the hill, nodding for Linhardt to follow. Linhardt’s horse seemed to be the more stubborn one of the two, but after some gentle convincing, he followed behind Caspar until they stopped in front of a small stone structure nestled in a ring of weeds and trees.

It was long abandoned, ivy creeping up along its dark, cracked walls. The doors had long since been ripped off the hinges, leaving the modest interior open to the elements. Little remained of the altar inside except for the flat stone too heavy to be of interest to looters, and the stained glass above it was tarnished with age where it wasn’t shattered completely.

But there was no mistaking it – the outline of that crest in the window. “I knew it,” Caspar breathed, grinning. “I heard someone mention an old chapel up on this hill. Look at that, Linhardt – it’s a chapel to Cethleann.”

Linhardt dismounted and stepped across the threshold, brows arched in interest. “It looks like you’re right. But why are you so interested in an old chapel anyway? It looks like it could collapse on top of us at any moment.”

Instead of answering, Caspar took his hand and pulled him down the dusty aisle, stopping in front of what was left of the altar. “It’s not exactly official,” he said. “But…could be fun to practice for the real thing. What do you say?”

Now he could see a splash of pink spreading across Linhardt’s cheeks, or maybe that was just from the light filtering through the stained glass above. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious! It’s like you said, it won’t change anything! But…” His thumb stroked over Linhardt’s knuckles, across the stains on his skin from magic filtering through his flesh time and time again. “I don’t have a ring for you. But we don’t have money or titles or any inheritance anyway, so what does all that tradition really matter in the long run? I wanna marry you when we get to Brigid. But I also really wanna marry you right here and now. Even if won’t make any difference, I-“

“It will.” Something in Linhardt’s voice was choked and strained as he squeezed Caspar’s hands so hard it felt like he’d never let go. “It will…make a difference.” When Caspar looked up at him again, Linhardt’s eyes were shining as he smiled at him, his fingers soft against Caspar’s jaw as he cupped his face. “I’ve waited long enough. Waiting a little longer won’t kill me. But if I could I’d marry you right this second.”

Caspar leaned in with a wide grin. “So why don’t you?”

Linhardt laughed, warm and genuine, stepping closer until Caspar could feel his breath against his own lips. “Maybe I will.”

One thing, among a thousand things, that Caspar loved about Linhardt, was that he was a man of his word.


End file.
